


Mischief

by BashfulGnome



Series: 5 Years of Wrecking [4]
Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-15 15:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BashfulGnome/pseuds/BashfulGnome
Summary: Thanksgiving dinner prep would be a lot easier if the pie didn't fall into the wrong hands.





	Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Original post date: Nov. 24, 2017
> 
> Original note: Week 4: Core Four! A Thanksgiving-themed story to fit in with this week's festivities. Naturally, there's never a dull moment with these guys.

Tamora glanced at the pot of boiling water on the stovetop. "Your pasta's almost done, shortstack. Looks different this time."

"Luigi showed me a new recipe for stuffed shells last week! I wanted to give it a try," he responded excitedly.

She raised an eyebrow. "How're you gonna eat those? They're mostly cheese, aren't they?" she replied in between shoving handfuls of stuffing into the turkey.

He smiled and held up a plate containing two piles of filling – one with yellowish bits, and one a creamy white. Both smelled delicious. "I'm trying eggplant for half of the batch. Should be interesting!"

Working off of the counter behind them, Ralph whistled to himself as he rhythmically pounded away on his super-sized bowl full of cooked potatoes, stopping occasionally to crush a clove of garlic into the mix. The scent was so pleasant that he didn't even mind how the mixture clung to his fingers. He was glad to be hosting the Thanksgiving prep work; it was nice to have family in the house on a busy holiday morning. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Vanellope sitting under the kitchen table, sampling one of the pies Mary had supplied.

"Kid, cut that out. We're not gonna have enough pies left over for Hero's Duty if you keep eating them."

She leaned her head back against a chair leg, exasperated. "I'm only having one, sheesh," she pouted, licking the cherry filling off her fingers.

"Hey Sarge, can you make sure she doesn't get to any more of the pies?" He held up his hands to demonstrate that they were covered in warm potato-and-garlic paste.

"I'd love to, but I'm elbow deep in the ass-end of a bird, in case you haven't noticed."

He groaned in response. "Felix, can you put the pies somewhere Vanellope can't reach?"

The racer took the opportunity to retreat outside and eat her pie in peace. Felix saw her leaving but looked the other way. He'd had a hankering for pie all day and really didn't blame Vanellope for snatching one, since they had plenty.

He drained the pasta through a colander over the sink. "Did you say something, brother?"

"Never mind. She made a break for it," Ralph shrugged.

"Anyway, how're the potatoes coming, Wreck-It? It looks like we're gonna have enough to feed the whole arcade."

"Heh, well, that's sorta the plan. Anything we don't get to is gonna go to the Nicelanders' spread. They're hosting East Niceland this year so I'll bring over the extra mashed potatoes when we all go drop by later."

Tamora finished stuffing the turkey and opened the oven door. "Good thing we're doing this at your place. Our stovetop couldn't fit a bowl that size."

"We can make everything at once with this much elbow room!" Felix added, scooping the filling into the shells on a pan.

"Yeah, I've even got enough room in there to keep the leftovers warm until we're all done and ready to go. Speakin' of which, let me throw these on top." Ralph set his bowl on the stove, covering it with a lid. "There! Wouldn't be the same without the old Ham Hands touch."

Felix slapped a hand over his forehead. "That reminds me, I knew I forgot something! I left our sauce at home. I'll be right back." He pulled off his apron and headed out.

—

"Ah, there we go." Felix closed his front door, can of tomato sauce in hand. He was just about to head off when he saw Vanellope approaching from the lake. As she came closer, he noticed that she was holding the empty tin from the pie she'd enjoyed earlier.

"Vanny, what were you doing all the way out there?"

"I couldn't finish all that pie, so I brought the rest down to the lake and fed it to the ducks! They liked it so much, they wanna be friends!" She gestured to the ducks at a distance behind her.

For a few seconds, the waterfowl continued plodding along at a calm pace, following the lingering scent of the pie. However, upon catching sight of Felix, the ducks began angrily beating their wings and quacking frantically. Before he could react, the handyman found himself covered in an aggressive mob of noise and feathers.

"H-hey! What's the big idea? What'd he do?" Vanellope waved the tin around in an attempt to scare off the ducks.

"They– _ow!_ –aren't awfully fond of me– _ouch!_ –for some reason! I think they're – _aah!_ –programmed to attack me on sight! Felix struggled to be heard over the deafening quacks and stinging bites.

His screams and the swinging pie tin did nothing to discourage the winged tormentors, and every time he flailed an arm in their direction, it seemed like five more ducks would flock to it. He clutched the can of sauce to his chest, desperate to keep the ducks away from it. Within minutes, the handyman resembled a frightened heap of feathery anguish.

"What makes them go away?!"

"They don't leave– _yeow!_ –until they're good and ready!"

Suddenly, three gunshots rang out above their heads and the ducks released Felix, milling around in confusion. Ralph and Tamora came running through the opening, the latter waving her arms and yelling threateningly.

" _ **HEY!**_  Leave him alone! It's not too late to cook  _your_  giblets too!"

With the same frenzy of wingbeats and quacks, the flock of ducks scattered in every direction, not wanting to take their chances with the furious woman and her giant friend.

"Beady-eyed little nuisances…Here you go." Tamora retrieved Felix's hat, which had fallen off during the rather one-sided fight, and brushed the dust off her husband, doting on him a bit. "You hurt?"

Groaning, Felix slowly pulled himself to his feet, with Tamora's help.

"Thank you, puddin'." He took the hat and replaced it on his head. "I'm– _ah!_ –okay. A little sore, but nothing the ol' hammer can't fix." He winced at the bruises on his arms. "Luckily they didn't get to the sauce."

"Hoo boy, brother, that was ugly. Glad you're in one piece," the wrecker sighed, relieved, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry Felix! I thought maybe the pie'd calm them down!" The tiny president glitched with concern.

Ralph scooped her up in one hand. "Vanellope, I told you those ducks are unpredictable," he scolded.

"You didn't tell me they hated Hammertime so much!"

"Well, at least we can mark 'front lawn brawl' on the Thanksgiving Bingo this year," Tamora deadpanned, and pushed Felix's hat down over his face, making him blush. "C'mon, let's finish the dinner prep already."

"And Vanny?" Felix righted his hat and turned to the child, still seated in Ralph's hand.

"Yeah?"

"Let's both hold off on the pie for now."


End file.
